Fade
by InTheCompanyOfDragons
Summary: Sam knows he has dreams outside of hunting... His escape is the acceptance letter in the bottom of his bag. But he can't leave his family. His choice to stay leads to a whole new world of pain for the Winchester's, leaving them to wonder if Sam should have left his family behind him. **Second Story in this series Disintegrate is now up**
1. Chapter 1

Fade

Dean had been looking for Sam for hours, and when he finally found him, he sat in the Impala watching his brother who was curled up with his arms around his knees staring out at the small lake that was located on the edge of the town they were currently staying in on the back roads of America. Dean sighed and got out walking towards the hunched over figure.

Sam's shoulders became tense as Dean came up behind him, so Dean knew that his little brother had heard his shoes in the gravel. Dean could handle a bitchy Sam, hell he had been dealing with that Sam since Sam hit puberty and began to buck against everything that their family stood for.

But this was different, Sam didn't look bitchy, he looked sad, angry, and torn apart all at once. As Dean got closer he saw a half empty bottle of whiskey hanging from his brother's fingers. Sam was eighteen, it wasn't like Dean didn't know that he had drank before, it just wasn't Sam's way. It was their Dad's way, which meant that Sam wanted nothing to do with it.

Dean sat down in the dirt beside Sam, and looked out at the lake waiting for Sam to say something. Sam sighed and took another sip of whiskey, wincing at the sting behind the alcohol.

"Do you think we are good people Dean?" Sam whispered. Dean frowned and finally looked at his brother's silhouette.

"What kind of question is that Sammy?" Sam shrugged.

"I think it's a valid question."

"You're drunk." Dean said, as he swiped the bottle out of Sam's hand. Sam didn't fight for it, but did turn his angry eyes towards Dean.

"Just answer the damn question De."

"We kill monsters, and we save people. Isn't that the definition of good?" Sam laughed coldly.

"We kill monsters because it makes us feel better about our own sad existence. We fight for vengeance. We are blood hungry; saving people is just a bi product. It is completely secondary. Isn't that the definition of bad?" Sam choked out a sob and put his head down into his arms trying to regain some composure. Dean was floored, Sam hadn't cried in a long time.

"Jesus Sammy, what's going on with you?"

"I don't want to be this anymore…" The hair on the back of Dean's neck stood up.

"What does that even mean?"

"I don't want to be a hunter Dean, I want something more then this… I want a life. Please tell me you understand that." Dean stood and put a hand through his hair.

"I will never understand that. This is what you are Sam, and what your family is. You can't walk away from your family; it's all we have. I don't even know who you are anymore." Sam watched his brother and a sad smile made its way across his face.

"Yeah that's what I thought…" Sam said, standing on wobbly legs. On instinct, Dean caught him and wrapped an arm around his waist.

"Lets just go home Sam… let you sleep this off…"

"Yeah… mmmkay…" Dean put Sam in the passenger seat of the car, and got in the drivers seat, but didn't put the keys in the ignition.

"Hey Sammy?" Sam shifted his head towards Dean.

"Yeah?"

"You aren't going anywhere right? Like, there isn't anything you need to tell me?" A few too many seconds went by before Sam turned back towards the windshield.

"Nah Dean. I'm staying right here." Dean tried to ignore how sad Sam sounded when he said that.

Dean groaned when he pulled into the parking lot of the motel and saw that his Dad was back. With a drunk and groggy Sam in the passenger seat, John Winchester getting involved was sure to cause a fight, and Dean didn't have the energy to deal with the mismatched Winchester bookends.

Dean pulled Sam into the hotel room, and deposited him on the bed, before turning to his father. Another bottle of whiskey was sitting on the table, and John was eyeing both of them. Dean sighed, great another drunk Winchester.

"Don't even bother Dad, let him sleep it off."

"Where was he?"

"The lake."

"Is he drunk?"

"Very." John sighed and rubbed a hand through his four days of beard.

"Stupid kid." Dean bristled.

"He isn't stupid Dad. He is smarter then us." John snorted and walked into the attached room, leaving Dean alone with his brother. "Are all families this fucking moody?" Dean whispered to himself, while heading to the bathroom to change. He grabbed a glass of water and the bottle of aspirin as an after thought and put it on the end table between him and Sam. His brother was going to need it.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Dean took the opportunity to look at his brother. It was hard to comprehend that this six foot four ball of muscle was once the scrawny baby that Dean had carried out the door of his house. Dean looked at Sam for the first time, really looked at him and noticed the frown that Sam seemed to have on his face even in sleep. For the first time Dean admitted to himself that maybe this was more then teenaged angst and moodiness. Sam looked truly and thoroughly done, he looked tired and there was something depressing about the way Sam seemed to curl in on himself nowadays.

Sam had been running into burning buildings since before he could shave, he had been saving people, and hunting monsters since before he was in high school, but Dean knew one truth about his little brother that his Dad didn't. Sam wasn't a hunter. He didn't have the hate in his heart to be one, and Dean was starting to feel Sammy slipping away from him.

Dean ran his hand through his hair and sighed, then pulled the covers up around Sam's shoulder. Subconsciously, Sam turned his body towards his brother, reaching his hand out, so it dangled over the bed. Dean smiled to himself, hoping that this meant something good, that maybe Sam still loved him.

"Good night little brother." Dean walked away, climbing into his own bed, not realizing Sam was still awake.

Sam opened his eyes and held back the tears, he wanted out, but he knew he couldn't leave his family. He thought about the acceptance letter in his bag, and closed his eyes hoping maybe that at least in dreams, he could enjoy the world he wanted, but could never be apart of.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

3 weeks later:

Dean was livid. He was supposed to be researching for his Dad today, so they could move onto the next hunt when John got back from a salt and burn with Bobby. Instead he was on his way to Sam's school. The principal had called saying she needed to meet with Sam's guardian, and since that had been Dean for the past three years, off he went. Dean walked into the school, and into the main office where he was directed into the back. Sam was hunched over in an old leather chair staring at the blue carper, not even looking up at his brother when he walked in, and Dean sat down beside him.

"You didn't need to come." Sam said under his breath.

"Yeah well, your principal said they needed to see me."

Sam eyed Dean coldly, before looking back to the floor.

"I'm eighteen years old, I don't need a guardian anymore." Dean rolled his eyes at his brother's petulance.

"Yeah well, you are still in high school so deal with it." The brothers sat in awkward silence until a middle-aged woman opened the door.

"Dean I presume?" She asked reaching out her hand. Dean shook it gently and smiled.

"Yes Mam." She smiled and took a seat across from the brothers, placing a thick file folder on the desk in front of her.

"Call me Karen. I am glad you could make it. I understand that this may be a shock. You are not frequently called into schools to talk about Sam."

Dean laughed under his breath.

"That is an understatement. So what is this about?" Karen leaned forward and opened up the file on her desk.

"You know when Sam transferred here, we were amazed by his records. Over eighteen different schools in four years, yet always a straight A student, teacher references talk about what a pleasure he was to have in their classes. And then he came here." Dean looked at her with immense confusion, what had changed?

"I don't really know what you are talking about."

"I figured… Sam has only been to three of his classes in the last two weeks. It is the end of May, and we are starting end of term assignments, he has yet to turn any in. To put it simply Mr. Winchester, Sam is failing out school and I don't understand why. It seems that this behaviour is extremely out of character for him." Dean looked over to his brother in anger.

"Anything to say Sam?"

Sam shrugged his shoulders.

"Not really."

Karen sighed sadly.

"Sam you are eighteen, I can't force you to go to class or graduate, I just don't understand why after all these years of hard work, you would give up now. With your grades, you could go to any college in the country."

Sam scoffed and stood up.

"You are a good person Mrs. Miller, and it is nice that you care so much, but perhaps you shouldn't waste your time on someone who does not want your help. Am I free to go?"

"Yes Sam."

"Wait for me in the office Sammy, we are going home." Sam nodded his head, and walked out. Dean turned back and shook Karen's hand again. "Thanks for caring about him."

"Of course, it would be a shame if Sam walked away now, I hope you can get through to him."

Dean walked behind Sam as they headed back to the Impala trying to maintain some level of calmness. Sam had always been pigheaded, refusing to train or hunt when he had homework, throwing a fit when they had to move. Why would he all of the sudden decide he no longer cared about school? It wasn't like him.

The two brothers silently made their way back to the motel. Sam sat on the edge of his bed, taking off his shoes, and Dean sat across from him on the other bed, finally breaking the silence.

"Are you gonna tell me what's going on?" Dean asked, attempting to be as gentle as possible.

"Nothing is going on." Sam whispered.

"Really? So you just decided not to go to school anymore? What the hell do you do all day?"

"Walk around mostly." Sam sighed. "What's the point Dean? We are just gonna leave."

"You aren't acting like yourself Sammy. You have been off for weeks, and now this? I… I miss my brother man." Dean said.

Sam finally met Dean's eyes, and Dean winced at the anger he saw in them. Sam stood up and began pacing the room. He kicked the side of the bed and turned back towards Dean.

"You never even like Sammy!" Sam yelled. Dean stood and walked over to his angry brother.

"What does that even mean? You are Sammy."

Sam laughed manically, and forced back tears that were threatening to fall.

"No… I'm Sam. There was once this kid named Sammy right? And he always tried his best to make his family happy. Yet he couldn't, cause he wanted to go to school, and he didn't want to hunt. He researched for them, and that wasn't good enough. Nothing he ever did was good enough. So he stopped fucking doing it!"

"Sam… we were never disappointed in you. I didn't want this. Dad loves you." Sam snapped and threw Dean against the wall, and Dean just let him do it.

"You killed Sammy. You wanted my head in the game? You wanted me to be with the family? I'm here okay. So stop acting like you care about me being in school. I am done." Sam shoved Dean one more time and slipped his shoes back on his feet.

"Where are you going?"

"Library. We have a hunt to research remember?" Sam slammed the door behind him leaving Dean confused and angry.

Dean jumped as his phone went off in his back pocket; he pulled out and swore under his breath. Dad.

"Hey Dad." Dean said.

"Why is Sam's school calling me?" John asked.

"They called both of us, I've already been down there."

"Okay, so it is dealt with then?"

"Sam's failing out of school." There was a silence at the other end of the line for a second.

"Sam? How?"

"Apparently when you don't go to class anymore, it tends to drop your grades."

"What did Sam say about it?"

"Basically that he was done, and we couldn't make him go back."

"Well okay then." Dean blinked.

"Okay? You are just okay with this?"

"Dean… it does make our lives easier not having him in school. It's Sam's decision."

"It's Sam's decision? You have dictated everything Sam has ever done; yet this you are going to let him make the decision on? Are you nuts?"

"Mind your tone Dean. I am done talking about this. It's Sam's decision." John Winchester hung up the phone, and Dean sat there feeling completely powerless. Was John right? Was this better? Dean made his way out the door to go find Sam, trying to convince himself it was better to let Sam do this then fight him, while everything in his heart was telling him otherwise.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

Sam sat outside the library leaning against the brick wall that divided the old nineteenth century building from the busy street. He inhaled the smoke from his cigarette while he waited for his brother. He knew Dean would come after him eventually, and figured if they could get the brotherly share and care out of the way, maybe Dean would help him research and they could get it done a little quicker.

Sam sighed and took another drag. It wasn't like he was mad at Dean, and he knew that his brother was just trying to show how much he cared. But Sam was just plain mad. He had made the decision to let the idea of Stanford go; he knew it would never happen. He was done living in a dream world; he was done being a child. That kind of behaviour led to heartbreak, and if he was honest with himself, he wasn't ready to lose his family, and he wasn't sure he could make it at school, when the hunting life was the only world he had ever known.

Sam was broken out of his thoughts when a familiar body in a leather jacket sat down beside him.

"Dad'll kill you if he catches you smoking." Dean said. Sam scoffed and exhaled the smoke.

"Dad knows already." Sam answered. "Don't know how he found out, he threw a pack on my bed one day, and told me to stop sneaking around. He hates that habit more."

"How come you never told me?" Dean asked.

"Cause you would've skinned me alive."

"Would not. It's your life."

Sam smiled, thinking about the things he could never tell Dean, because he had never been able to make decisions on his own life. It was exactly what was keeping him there.

"You know that isn't true Dean. My life has never been my life. We are all so tangled up in each other, chasing things that go bump in the night, that there is no room for anyone to do anything different."

Dean's eyes narrowed and he turned his head to face Sam, waiting for his brother to look at him.

"Are we still talking about smoking? Or is there something you aren't telling me?"

Sam shook his head and stomped out the cigarette on the pavement. He wasn't going to have this conversation with his brother. It hurt too much.

"I'm tired Dean, lets get the research done alright? Then I want to sleep until Dad gets back for this hunt."

"Sammy…" Dean started.

"Dean. Please. Not now." Sam said, before making his way up the stairs of the public library. Dean sighed and followed. He had time to find out what was going on with his brother, but this wasn't the time.

The research had gone by quite quickly, and they now had a good idea what they were dealing with. Drowning's in the local lake were most likely being caused by Selkies, and they were easy enough to take care of, consecrated iron rounds and the Winchester's could get the hell out of dodge.

Sam and Dean fell into an uneasy sleep once they got the guns ready for the hunt, and both were instantly awake at the sound of the dead bolt sliding out of place and John Winchester was welcomed by two fully awake sons, and a couple of nine millimeters pointed at his chest.

"At ease boys." John said. Sam safetied his weapon, placed it on the end table and rolled back over to face the wall, while Dean sat up in his bed brushing down his sleep tussled hair with his palm.

"A phone call would keep you from walking in to a gun in your face you know."

John laughed and dropped his duffle and the weapons bag on the floor of the motel.

"Gotta keep you boys on your toes somehow. How'd the research go?

"Seems like a couple of Selkies, shouldn't be too hard to take care of, gonna have to use the cover of night though, and get out of there as quick as possible. Nothing pisses of the locals more then gunshots at the lake front."

Sam checked his watch, and sighed sitting up in his bed.

"Lets just go now. It's just after midnight, we got plenty of dark left, and we'll sleep when we get back." Sam was out of bed and in the bathroom before anyone could answer.

"You good with this Dad?" Dean asked.

John shrugged his shoulders and began to load his gun with iron bullets.

"The sooner we get it done, the better. We can rest up tomorrow, then pack up and head out since Sam doesn't want to go back to school."

"You really aren't gonna make him go back?"

"Dean, I can send him back to school, but I can't make him do his homework, and I can't make him go to class. Neither can you."

"I could try."

"Don't push it Dean, you may be the last person in the world Sam trusts."

"He trusts you."

"No he doesn't. He believes in me the same way soldiers trust their leaders. He trusts that I will bring him back alive, he doesn't trust me."

Dean said nothing, knowing his Dad was right; there was no point in arguing that fact.

"Hey Dad, how long have you known Sam smoked?"

"Couple of years. Think he started when he was sixteen."

"And you were just okay with that? Lungs are kinda important in our line of work."

John sighed, and put a hand on his older sons shoulder.

"So are livers, but we all have our vices Dean. If that is Sam's way of dealing then I can think of worse things." Dean's reply was cut off when Sam exited the bathroom, pulling his worn out jeans on over his boxers.

"Ready to go?" Sam asked, tucking his gun into his waistband.

"Yeah lets go get these things dealt with." Dean answered grabbing his gun off the bed.

The three Winchester's made their way towards the Impala, on their way to do what they do best. Protecting people, under the cover of the night.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

"Keep your eyes peeled boys, and watch each others six." John Winchester whispered from behind his sons. It would be faster if they split up, so John was going to send Sam and Dean one way so they would be able to watch each other.

"Yes sir." Dean answered. "Me and Sam are gonna go around the left side of the bank, meet you back in the middle?"

John grunted his affirmative and headed to the right. Dean followed closely behind Sam, watching the lake for any signs of the creatures. Dean bumped into Sam with a groan.

"What the hell you stopping for?" Dean asked.

"Shhh."

"Don't shhh me brat."

"Shut the hell up Dean!" Sam said with a glare. "Look!"

Dean frowned and looked back out at the lake. There were large ripples making their way across it towards them, and he took a step back from Sam and the waters edge.

Before Dean could get out a word he felt the ground shake, and heard Sam's gasp. The ground by the lake collapsed taking Sam into the water.

"Sammy!" Dena yelled in blind panic. The selkies head popped up above the water and Dean made a quick decision. If he jumped into the water after Sam, they could both be killed, if he killed the creature first, he might have a chance to get to his little brother.

He took aim at the Selkie, finding pleasure in its shrill scream, before dropping his gun on the shore and diving into the water. It was pitch black and cold and Dean was feeling all around him until he had to come up for air. He dived under one more time, feeling the burning in his lungs as they craved oxygen.

Then by the grace of God, his hand finally latched around a familiar sweatshirt, and yanked them both to the surface. Dean lay on his back in the water treading back towards the shore so he could pull his brother out of the frozen lake. He tapped Sam roughly on the cheek, trying to get him to open his eyes.

"C'mon Sam time to wake up!"

Dean put his fingers to his brother's neck, finding the pulse and jumping as Sam began to cough wildly, water making its way from his mouth and onto the ground.

"Sammy, you with me?"

Sam blinked awkwardly and his eyes attempted to find Deam, shifting from his brother to one side of him and then back with a confused expression on his face.

"D'n? There two a you…" Sam mumbled between coughs. Dean frowned and pulled a waterproof flashlight from his pocket. Sam hissed when the light hit his eyes, and his pupils dilated unevenly. Dean found a large gash on his head hidden beneath his bangs.

"Shit kiddo, you really managed to mess yourself up…"

Dean made himself busy, ripping a piece of his under shirt, and using it to keep pressure on the cut on Sam's head.

"Dean?" Dean jumped as he heard his Dad's voice come out of the woods.

"Hey Dad. We got it!" John came out, putting his gun in his waistband as he crouched beside his sons.

"What happened?"

"The thing, busted up the ground and Sam fell in. Took in some water, pretty bad concussion. Gotta get him out of the cold, and stitch up his head." John nodded and dragged Sam up off the ground, Dean took his other side and they began to walk back to the car.

Sam seemed to come to some sort of awareness and he began to pull back against the hold his family had on him.

"Damn it Sam, could you stop acting like a little bitch for 5 minutes?" Dean said in exasperation. Sam's head twisted towards Dean, and he continued to try to pull away from his father.

"Why's Dad helpin' me D'n?... don't even like me…" Dean saw John flinch in the dark, before the shutters fell down around his face again.

"Car's right there Dean, lets get him in the back." They pushed Sam in across the seat and Dean crawled in beside him, lifting Sam's head into his lap. John got into the front and started the car, sitting there for a second sighing heavily.

"Dad…" Dean started. "He didn't mean it he's just loopy."

John shook his head and made no attempt to meet Dean's eyes in the rear view mirrors.

"Just keep him awake and stop the bleeding if possible, we will do the rest at the motel." John said evenly.

Dean nodded and continuing to attempt to control the bleeding.

Sam huffed at the pain, glaring at Dean behind fevered eyes, and pawing weakly at the piece of fabric against his head.

"Hands off, doctor's at work." Dean whispered.

"You aren't a doctor…"

Dean smirked; a bitchy Sam was an alive Sam. He could live with that.

"Hey, hottest nurse you could have buddy."

Sam sighed and relaxed into Dean's chest, savouring the warmth against his cold skin. Dean squeezed his arm hard.

"No sleeping Sam."

"Mmmm… sleepy… cold."

"You have a concussion… just stay with me Sammy."

Sam opened his eyes and looked at Dean with genuine confusion.

"Did stay…"

"What?"

"Did stay with you. You told me to. Mad at me…"

"Sam, I don't know what you are talking about…"

Sam huffed and tried to see through the fog that was in his head. But he had forgotten what he was talking about too.

"' S cold Dean…" Sam said.

Dean sighed and squeezed his brother a little tighter.

"Gonna get you fixed up and in bed before you know it little brother…"

"Promise?"

Dean smiled a little, Sam sounded so young. Back when Dean was the center of his world and he worshipped the ground his big brother walked on. How things had changed over the years.

"I promise Sammy."

Sam contemplated that for a minute then nodded his head.

"Mkay." He handed is trust over to Dean, and stayed awake for the rest of the ride, only going to sleep when his big brother told him it was safe to close his eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

Sam woke slowly, attempting to make his way to the surface, with each moment the pain becoming more and more agonizing. His body felted weighted down and it took everything in him to move his limbs that suddenly felt like they were fighting gravity. Eventually he reached his hand up to his forehead when a strong hand caught his wrist.

"Don't touch it Sammy." Sam would recognize that voice anywhere, and he stopped fighting, allowing his arm to be brought back towards his chest, a calloused hand patting his.

"Dean?" Sam asked tentatively.

He heard the warm laughter from his childhood that had grown deeper with age.

"Duh. How's your head?"

"Hurts."

"You gonna open your eyes for me?" Sam sighed and blinked slowly, opening his eyes into slits. Groaning as the light hurt his head Sam coughed loudly, sending another jolt of pain through his head and bile made its way up his throat.

"Sick…" Sam mumbled as he began to sit up. Dean was quick sticking the motel garbage can under his brother's chin, as he dry heaved into the can.

"Alright, you got nothing in your stomach stop with the dramatics." Dean said, with a gentle tone.

Sam groaned and leaned back against the headboard, fighting the nausea as he finally caught his brother in his blurry sight.

"You have terrible bedside manner… What happened?"

"You got yourself a bit of a concussion, and probably some nasty water in your lungs so if you start feeling sick or it gets hard to breathe let me know okay?"

"Hurts to breathe a little."

"Well then.., don't smoke for awhile." Sam glared weakly at his brother, until a small grin appeared on Dean's face. It was Dean's way of accepting this big flaw in Sam, and Sam smiled back.

"I'll do my best, where's Dad?"

"Food run, gotta get something in your stomach for you to barf back up."

Sam groaned and pushed himself up, placing his feet on the dirty shag carpet of the motel room.

"Don't say barf."

Sam made his way to the bathroom, so he could finally relieve the pressure in his bladder. He splashed some water on his face and attempted to rub the tiredness out of his eyes.

He popped a couple of Tylenol for the pain in his head, and sat down on the toilet seat, grabbing his cell phone. He laughed quietly as he saw the date on the corner of his phone.

High school was officially over, and he thought he would be on his way to California right now for pre school placement and maybe finding a job.

Now he was a high school drop out sitting in a back road motel nursing a concussion he got from a supernatural creature.

Sam sighed and made his way back out of the bathroom as he heard his Dad walk back into the motel room. Sam's stomach turned at the scent of cheap takeout and he flopped onto the bed burying his head in the pillow.

"Is he okay?" John asked.

Sam rolled his eyes; it was just like his Dad to ask Dean how he was, even though he was right there in front of him. Normally this would be the point Sam would make himself known, causing a day of uneasy tension, but he was too tired to deal with it.

"He's fine Dad, just nauseous, concussions are a bitch." John grunted and bit into his burger

"I found another hunt, gonna head out tonight. Gotta follow the cycle of the creature so I may be gone for a couple weeks. Stay here with your brother."

"You sure? We can come with you."

"Not this time Dean… just stay here and watch out for Sammy."

Sam sighed and closed his eyes, thinking about how easy it could have been to walk away, to leave, so no one would have to watch out for him anymore.

He drifted for a little while, somewhere between sleep and awake. He was aware enough to hear his Dad and his brother around him, and he knew he was safe, but then by the time he opened his eyes Dad was gone and Dean was lounging on the other bed looking through the channels on the fuzzy motel TV.

"Dad leave?" Sam asked. Dean nodded, eyes on the TV.

"About an hour ago, he had a hunt, should be back in a couple of weeks."

"Yeah I know, I was right here." Dean recognized that tone in his brother's voice and tensed.

"I know you were Sammy."

"Do you? Seems like you t are in your own friggin' world half the time. Dean and John the dynamic duo, hunting things that go bump in the night… oh and don't they have a dog or something, named Sam?"

Dean dropped the remote on the bed and rubbed his temples, he was not in the moos to deal with a pissy Sam for the next two weeks.

"Well a dog would bitch less."

"Fuck you Dean." The older Winchester shot daggers across the room in exasperation.

"Why are you even mad at me right now? I didn't do anything Sam."

Sam sighed and pulled his shoes on his feet.

"I'm not mad at you okay? I'm sorry."

"Well don't be mad at him either, he does the best he can. He is just trying to keep you safe."

Sam scoffed, thinking about the safety he could have had in California, before standing up.

"He does the best he thinks he has to, that isn't the same thing." Sam grabbed his knife and a pack of cigarettes out of his duffel sliding the knife into his boot sheath, before turning towards the front door.

"Where the hell you think you're going?"

"For a walk."

"Like hell, you're hurt and you're in pain, I can see it in your eyes." Sam turned back towards his brother for a second hand on the doorknob.

"I'm always in pain, and you've never noticed before."

Sam slammed the door, and walked away trying to force the look of hurt on his brother's face out of his memory.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

5 Months Later

Kadoka, South Dokota

Sam was sleeping; he had been doing that a lot lately. When he wasn't researching or hunting he would curl up in a ball on his bed and close his eyes. Dean didn't know what to do for his brother, Sam was slipping away from them, and he refused to talk to his brother about why.

For the first time, Sam wasn't coming to Dean with what was hurting him, he was trying to hide from him, and Dean wasn't sure what to do with that information.

Dean looked up from his seat at the table when Sam began to shift in his sleep. Instead of waking up, Sam's face tightened into a frown and he began to whimper. Dean stood and made his way to the side of the bed, and sat down beside his brother's back, placing a hand between his tight shoulder blades.

"Sammy, wake up." Sam awoke with a gasp, grabbing his brother's wrist tightly as Dean grimaced. Sam's eyes met Dean's and Dean frowned at the watery look behind them.

"Dean?" Sam asked, as if he needed to confirm his brother's presence even though he was right in front of him.

"Uhhh… yeah? Can you stop trying to grind the bones in my wrist together now?" Sam frowned and then released his wrist.

"Sorry…" The youngest Winchester sniffled and wiped the tears out of his eyes before turning away from Dean again, but his brother grabbed his shoulder keeping him there.

"Hey, talk to me Sammy. Are you okay?" Sam swallowed and nodded his head.

"Fine. Tired."

"You're always tired."

"Yeah well, it's a tiring life Dean." Sam reached across the nightstand to grab his cigarettes, popping one in his mouth. Dean grimaced as the smell wafted towards him when Sam lit out, blowing the smoke out through his nose.

"Must you do that in the house?"

Sam snorted and flicked the ash into an empty beer can.

"It's a motel room Dean, it already smells like smoke and sex, I am not causing any harm."

"Well you're hurting my damn lungs." Sam shrugged.

"The Wendigos will get you before the lung cancer."

Dean flinched and gave his brother's back a cold stare.

"Could you not be a dick for five minutes?"

Sam shrugged his shoulders and turned towards Dean.

"I'm not a dick I'm a realist."

"Whatever… have you looked into any of those GED classes I told you about?"

Sam shrugged his shoulders.

"No, not really."

"Why not? A lot of them you can do online, so you can do the classes whenever you have time."

"What's the point?"

"I guess I just figured that maybe this hissy fit was over by now, and that you would want to actually finish high school."

Sam glared coldly at his brother.

"What's the point Dean? Dad will say it is a waste of time, takes away from all the research I could be doing for his hunts. Then I would have to listen to him give me a speech about priorities and shit."

"Dad doesn't have to know, I did mine and he didn't even realize. I seem to recall a 13 year old brat giving me shit about it until I went back."

Sam snorted and put his cigarette out in the empty can.

"That's what you get for listening to an immature brat who knew nothing about the world." Sam said in a vicious tone.

Dean visibly winced at that comment, and the tone of pure hatred that came out of Sam's mouth. He often wondered if Sam truly hated them for raising him the way they did, or worse, if he hated himself more.

Sam stood from the bed and slid on his jacket and made it to the door before Dean came out of his internal discussion.

"Where you going?" Dean asked.

Sam paused in the doorway, and turned back to Dean with his sad eyes.

"I am gonna go find a bar, and get drunk."

"I dunno Sam, that's pretty illegal." Sam smirked softly.

"Yeah well, my big brother got me a fake ID… Do you wanna come?"

Dean perked up instantly at the invite. Sam often went out on his own lately, preferring to find comfort in strangers, or in solitude instead of staying in Dean's company. The parental part of Deans personality wanted to bring up the fact that he thought Sam had been drinking too much since he left high school, but the bigger part, the brother part, just wanted to go out and have a good night with one of the most important people in his world.

"Sure, someone's got to watch your back in the big bad world."

They played a few games of pool, and Dean had to admit Sam had drastically improved since the last time they had done this.

"When did you get so good at this Sammy?"

Sam smiled and took another swig of beer before lining up his shot, sinking two balls in the corner pocket.

"Was practicing a lot my last few months of high school."

"So… that means you were hustling on your own like a dumbass."

Sam laughed and leaned on his cue.

"I always got out clean Dean."

"Of course you did, you're Winchester. What did you need the money for Sammy?"

Sam shrugged his shoulders, and went back to the game.

"Every cent went back to Dad eventually, kind of pointless to have money when you have nothing to spend it on."

It turned out to be a pretty good night for the Winchester boys, and while Dean nursed his one beer all night, Sam got drunk, but instead of the moody emo drunk his usually got, Sam got happy drunk. The dimples that Dean had thought had long since disappeared in the past 6 months, made an appearance, and for a few hours the two boys were able to pretend that nothing had changed.

But then that changed when they got back to the motel.

John Winchester was sitting at the table, about halfway through a bottle of whiskey, home three days earlier then expected.

And he was pissed.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

Dean stood to the side, while John Winchester gave Sam the angriest stare down either brother had ever seen. Sam didn't falter though, standing in the middle of the motel room, meeting his father's gaze. Dean felt like he was invisible, like he was watching a disaster unfold in front of him that he wasn't going to be able to stop.

"What is it, Dad?" Sam asked calmly. John simply pointed to the envelope on the table. Sam tensed instantly, but did not cower away from what he knew was coming.

"Dropped by Bobby's on the way here. He told me to give it to you, figured I deserved to know what my son was getting sent to Bobby's place."

Sam scoffed, and snatched the letter off of the table.

"You had no fucking right Dad. This is my business not yours!"

Dean was lost; he was standing in the middle of an argument completely unable to understand what was happening.

John stood quickly, grabbing Sam by the collar and shoving him hard against the wall. For the first time in months, the fight was back in Sam, who pushed back, but not hard enough to get a drunk John Winchester to back off.

"You selfish bastard! How dare you!"

"How dare I?" Sam yelled. "I was suffocating I wanted out!" Sam grabbed his father by the arms, and forced him to release him.

"You were just going to walk away from your family." John screamed back. He got back into Sam's space. "If you want to go, that door is open, just don't you dare come back."

Sam laughed coldly and looked at his father.  
"It's November Dad. I stayed for you. I dropped out of school for you. I am risking my life for you. I am hunting for you. What more do you fucking want from me?"

John finished the last of his drink and grabbed his coat from the chair, eyeing his youngest son one last time.

"I want you to be a good son."

The door slammed hard behind John Winchester, leaving his two sons stunned. Dean watched as Sam simply slid down the wall and into a ball on the floor, the fight draining out of him, clenching the mysterious letter in his hands. Dean crouched down in front of him and watched as silent tears begin to make their way down his brother's face. Dean looked at the letter, trying to understand what could possibly be in this envelope that had caused his Dad so much anger.

"Sammy, what is that?" Dean asked softly. Sam blinked up at him before holding the letter in his direction, giving his brother silent permission to read it, so Dean opened it up and read the first paragraph.

Mr. Sam Winchester,

Thank you for your letter informing us that you will not be attending our university this upcoming semester. We have passed your scholarships along to another student in financial need. We wish you luck in your future academic endeavours.

Dean blinked and looked back up at his brother who was staring at the floor.

"Sammy… you applied to college?"

Sam nodded and pulled his legs in farther into his chest. A soft and sad smile making its way across his face.

"Yeah, I got a full ride and everything… Stanford University wanted me to go to their school, for free. They thought I was worth it. Complete strangers looked at this poor kid, and though it was worth paying for my education. Isn't that crazy Dean?"

Dean heard what was unspoken, that he didn't believe that his family believed in him.

"I thought I had avoided this fight." Sam continued. "I didn't even go, and everybody still hates me."

"We don't hate you." Dean answered quickly. "Why didn't you go?"

"I didn't want to be a hunter, I wanted to go more then anything… but then I realized I couldn't walk away from my family… it was all I had."

Dean looked up wide-eyed, recognizing the words that he had said to Sam all those months ago.

"I didn't… I don't…" Dean tried to find someway to comfort his brother.

Sam stood and made his way over to the table, drinking the leftover whiskey straight from the bottle.

"I thought if I stayed, if I stopped arguing with him about staying in one place, he would finally respect me, even if he didn't love me."

"Dad loves you Sammy."

"No he doesn't. He did once upon a time, before Mom died, before I became a sad reminder of what could have been. I'm not even sure he considers me a Winchester. I'll never be what he wants Dean; I can never be a good son. I can't be you. "

"I'm sorry Sam."

Sam shot his brother a watery smile.

"Don't be sorry Dean, this isn't your fault. I just want to go to sleep." Dean nodded, and watched as his brother walked around the room, getting himself ready for bed.

"I'm just gonna go for a walk, okay Sammy?"

"Yeah… bring him home and make sure he doesn't get himself killed." Dean sighed; he never could get much by the kid.

"I'll see you in the morning kiddo." Dean turned to walk out the door.

"Hey Dean?"

"Yeah Sam?"

"It was never about you okay? You were one of the good things in my life. I love you okay?" Dean frowned at the sappiness but decided to let it go, it had been a tough night.

"Love you too kid." Dean took one more look at his brother before stepping out into the night, looking for a very drunk, very angry John Winchester.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

Obnoxious country music blasted its way through the doors of the run down tavern Dean eventually found his father in. He saw his Dad sitting at the end of the bar, facing out so he could see everything around him. He was obviously on the far end of intoxicated, but he was still a hunter in every way.

"Can I get you anything?" The bartender asked when he saw Dean standing awkwardly at the end of the bar.

"No, just here for him." Dean replied pointing to the end of the bar. The bartender nodded sympathetically.

"Good, I was just about to cut him off anyway, I'll send down some coffee, on the house."

"I appreciate it." Dean walked over and sat down beside his father, who did nothing except tense at Dean's presence.

Dean nodded his thanks to the bartender when he brought over to cups, and pushed the coffee towards his Dads sipping on his own.

"Why aren't you mad at him?" John said suddenly.

Dean shrugged his shoulders and stared down at the bar.

"I think I would have been, had he gone through with it. But he didn't Dad he is still here. As much as he wanted to go, he stayed here with us, to me that makes him pretty selfless."

John groaned, and finally took a sip of coffee.

"I know he isn't selfish Dean, I didn't mean to say that."

"But you did, and you damn well know Sam takes everything you say to heart."

"He is so friggin' sensitive."

He's Sammy, of course he is."

John looked at his oldest son, who had grown up to be a tough hunter in his own right. Dean was everything he was expected to be, hard, tough, quick. And for some reason that made his stomach churn.

"I have always tried my best Dean. I thought I taught him everything he needed to know; I thought I did right by him. I thought I was going Am I wrong?"

Dean stared into his Dads eyes for a few moments, before clearing his throat.

"You made him a good soldier."

John knew Dean could give him no fairer answer, but it still hurt to think that he had failed his child. That his son had been ready to run, and leave his family behind because he knew he couldn't have both worlds.

When he was running around chasing ghosts, teaching his children how to shoot guns and fight, Dean had raised his brother, and had turned him into a great man.

"We should be getting back…" John said.

"Yeah… sounds good Dad."

The ride back was silent, each man lost in their own thoughts, but each

thinking about their youngest. Sam was a good kid, better then all of them, and they missed the way he used to be.

Dean and John entered the room quietly, hoping not to wake Sam. Dean was instantly alert when he noticed Sam was not in his bed.

"Sammy?" Dean called. When he heard no answer John and Dean pulled their guns from their backs and continued their search through the small motel room.

John was over by the kitchenette, when Dean entered the bathroom. Flicking on the light, Dean dropped his gun on the floor beside him as he slid over to his brother.

"Sammy!"

Sam had wedged himself between the sink and the toilet, blood pooling all over the floor.

Dean was in a panic, his hands coasting over Sam's body until he found the source of the blood. Taking off he plaid over shirt he ripped it in half, tying it around each wrist to stem the bleeding.

John was in the doorway, talking on the phone to the paramedics, while Dean attempted to keep pressure on the bleeding wounds. Sam groaned and Dean grabbed him by the cheek.

"Hey Sammy? Are you with me?"

Sam's eyes flickered, but didn't open.

"D'n…"

"Yeah I'm here little brother, you are gonna be fine."

Sam moaned weakly, attempting to pull away from Dean with the little strength he had left.

"No… l'me go…" Dean simply squeezed harder pulling his brother against his chest.

"Never Sam. I am never going to let you go."

Sam collapsed against his brother's chest, and Dean stayed as calm as he could, reminding himself that Sam was still breathing, that he was still alive.

Everything was a blur; the paramedics lifted Sam into the ambulance, attempting to keep Sam alive. Dean went with them, refusing to let go of Sam's hand all the way to the hospital.

John would follow behind them, but first he went back in to pack a bag, knowing Sam would be safe in with his brother.

He grabbed some of Dean's clothes, and his own, before moving to Sam's duffle. On top was a bent letter, which had obviously been read many times. It was an acceptance letter, something that Sam had earned without his knowledge.

A burst of pride ran its way through the father, which replaced the anger of earlier. What had he done? Had he driven his child to this?

John looked up at the bathroom mirror. Where "I'm sorry" was written in bloody letters.

John collapsed on the bed, in disbelief over what had transpired, and for the first time, in a long time.

John Winchester cried.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

Dean splashed cold water on his face and ran his hands over his unshaven chin. Three days. He had been here for three days watching his brother fight for his life. If you could even consider it fighting, it was obvious that Sam wanted to die, and Dean wanted to cry at the knowledge that is brother didn't want to stay alive.

Sam had finally been removed from the vent that morning when he began to fight it, but showed no sign of waking up. John was getting restless, and was currently off doing God knows what trying to take his mind off of what was happening.

Dean wandered back to Sam's room with a dark cup of hospital sludge that they called coffee and took a seat in the hard plastic chair that sat beside Sam's bed. Sam looked terrible. Dark circles ran under both eyes, and bright white linen covered his wrists and the horrid damage that was underneath.

Dean ran his hand over one wrist, he knew what was under there, he would never get the image of those wide gaping wounds out of his mind.

"Hey Sammy…" Dean whispered into his brother's ear. "I don't know if you can hear me, but I need you to wake up from this nap of yours. I know you needed a break, but now we need to talk." Dean faltered and wiped the tears from his eyes.

"Sammy…you gotta give me a chance to fix this… please…"

At some point Dean fell asleep, his hand still on Sam's pulse point, when he was awoken by a squeaking noise. He lifted his head as Sam's hand began to pull out form under his. Tears streamed from Sam's eyes, but they were still shut tightly. Dean brought his hands up to Sam's face, and began to wipe away the tears with his thumbs, causing Sam to still, subconsciously trusting the touch that he knew belonged to Dean.

"Hey, you with me?" Dean asked.

Sam's movements stilled, and Dean thought he had passed back out until he heard a muffled noise.

"D'nnnn…" Sam whispered, pushing his face deeper into Dean's palm.

"Yeah, it me. C'mon kid, let me see those eyes."

Sam felt like weights were holding his eyelids shut, but the little brother in him wanted to follow his big brothers orders, so he slowly pried open his tired eyes. Dean smiled warmly when his brother's eyes finally focused on him.

"Hey there little brother, how you feeling?" Sam sighed, and blinked his eyes slowly.

"Tired, sore."

Dean grimaced and looked down at the bandages, know that the stitches were probably pulling and itchy.

"I'll get them to give you something when they come through…"

Instead of nodding, Sam's eyes began to fill with tears again.

I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" Sam whispered frantically. The heart monitor began to blip quickly.

"Sammy, you need to calm down, we will talk about it later okay? Right now, I just want you to heal so we can get you out of here. Just remember this, you have nothing to be sorry for."

Dean rubbed his brothers arm soothingly, while the monitor began to calm down. It had taken a lot out of Sam, who was know starting to droop against Dean, and he was fighting the tiredness that was starting to overcome him.

"Sleep Sam. You need the rest."

"Will you be here when I wake up?" Dean frowned and looked into his brother's sad eyes.

"Of course I will, where else would I be?"

"Promise me." Dean sighed, and ran his hand through his brother's greasy hair.

"I promise Sam. Now get some sleep. We will talk later."

The doctors came in a little while to check Sam over; glad with the progress he had made, and said they would return later when Sam was awake to talk to him about how he was doing. For now the brothers were left alone.

Dean sat quietly for the next few hours, content in knowing that his brother was on his way back to health, at least physically. Dean knew he would have to make some changes to himself, find a way to allow his brother to be open with him about his emotions.

It wasn't Deans way to talk about feelings, but Dean knew that holding it all in was one of the reasons Sam became this desperate in the first place. He wasn't going to lose his brother because he refused to have a conversation about the things that were happening in his brothers head.

Dean made no move to turn around when he heard familiar footsteps come up behind him. He knew his Dad was standing in the doorway, trying to come up with something to say. John Winchester had always been a man of few words, and he hid his pain behind anger, a short fuse, and a large amount of alcohol.

"Have the doctors been back in yet?" John decided to say to break the ice.

"They'll check on him later. He woke up earlier." Dean responded, giving the facts to his father without any real emotion.

John looked surprised when he came to stand next to his sons, watching his youngest's heartbeat on the small screen beside the hospital bed.

"Did he say anything?"

"He said he was sorry."

"For what?"

"Does it matter? He shouldn't have to be sorry. He shouldn't have been this desperate."

"I know Dean." Dean stood from his chair, and got right up into his fathers face.

"I hope you are some ready for some changes Dad, cause I am not going to lose my brother to whatever demons are going on in his head. If I have to keep him in the motel room, and give up hunting for the next little while to fix this, I'm gonna do it. If you can't accept that, I will take him out of here, and find someone who can."

"Where you gonna go Dean? Singers?"

"If I have to."

"I'm not gonna hurt him Dean." Dean shook his head, and looked over at his baby brother who was sleeping in the bed.

"We already hurt him Dad, I just need to know if you are willing to help me fix him."

"I can't give up the hunt Dean, we save people."

Dean scoffed, and turned away from his father.

"I don't need you around to fix him Dad, I can do that on my own. I am just wondering if you are willing to give him whatever he needs."

"And what do you think he needs Dean?"

"I don't know yet, but when I find out, I swear to God he is going to get it."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10:

Sam sat silently on the edge of the bathtub while Dean unwrapped his bandaged wrists. Of course, Sam had been nothing but quiet the last couple of days, he just dealt with his brother's ministrations and stared aimlessly into space.

The mood stabilizers they had Sam on made him sleepy, but the doctors recommended that he stay on them until the wounds healed, and his mood evened back out.

It scared Dean that his usually moody and independent brother had all but disappeared, replaced by this ghost that now lived with him. Sam slept a lot, and when he wasn't sleeping, he sat quietly and cried, moving only to use the bathroom and drink some water when Dean forced him to.

John had moved their stuff into the new motel room before Sam had been released from the hospital. Dean had all but childproofed it when they came back, removing everything that Sam could hurt himself with, and keeping the few weapons he left out for protection next to his bed, and under his watchful eye.

John took off shortly after they arrived, muttering something about a hunt in the next county. But unless the hunt took place in some run down bar, Dean doubted that hunting was what John was doing.

"How are they feeling Sammy?" Dean asked, as he gently patted ointment over the healing stitches.

Sam shrugged his shoulders and flexed his hand.

"Itchy… not as sore as they were…" Sam whispered.

"Still feeling a little tingly?"

Sam nodded his head.

"That should go away soon."

Dean wrapped Sam's arms back up, and watched as his brother walked back over to the couch.

Sam pulled a sweatshirt over his head, and pulled the sleeves down over his hands, covering the bandages. Over that, he pulled a blanket over his shoulders and burrowed deep into the couch, until nothing but his long shaggy hair was peaking over the top.

Dean sat against the headboard of his bed, and flipped through the channels on the fuzzy television set. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the mass of comforter on the couch begin to twist and move. He sat silently, until he heard his brother make a low keening noise, which turned into a quiet sob.

Dean sighed, and moved over to his brother's side, sitting on the edge of the couch and moving the comforter out of the way so he could see his brother's face. It was obvious Sam was stuck inside of some sort of nightmare. His face was squeezed into a painful frown, and his hands were gripped tightly to the comforter.

"C'mon Sammy, wake up." Dean said, gently squeezing his brother's shoulder. Sam's eyes popped open, landing on Dean before turning watery. Dean said nothing; he just kept his hand on his brother's back as he shook.

"Why are you doing this Dean?"

Dean frowned, and rolled Sam towards him so they could look at each other.

"Doing what?"

"Pretending like everything is okay, taking care of me."

"I've always taken care of you, that isn't gonna change."

Sam sighed deeply, before sitting himself up, leaning against the back of the couch.

"I don't want to do this Dean. Hit me, scream at me, and tell me to leave, just don't sit here and pretend you aren't pissed about what I did."

Dean let out his own sigh, and dragged his hand through his hair.

"I am pissed Sam. I am so mad I can't fucking see straight. I am mad at Dad, at myself, at this entire damn situation… but I am not mad at you."

Sam looked up surprised, and Dean saw the little boy his brother used to be somewhere behind the teens tired eyes.

"Why? I… I tried to kill myself… I took the cowards way out."

Sam looked away in shame, but Dean caught him by the chin and kept his hand there forcing Dean to look at him.

"You spent your entire life fighting for what you needed Sammy, even when it hurt you, you fought hard to keep us safe. And then, when it would have guaranteed your happiness you stayed here and kept fighting a war that you wanted no part of. You are not a coward Sammy, you're a fucking hero…"

Sam held back tears as he listened to his brother speak, softly pushing his cheek into his hand, savouring the physical comfort that had become rare, as the two boys had edged towards their adult years.

"I don't want to fight anymore… I'm so tired. I just wanted to sleep. I didn't want to wake up anymore." Sam whispered.

"That's okay. I'll fight for you. You rest for as long as you need."

"I'm sorry Dean… you didn't deserve that… I shouldn't have let you find me like that."

Dean looked at his brother's honest face and smiled softly.

"You didn't deserve anything that we've put you through, I think we are more then even."

"That wasn't your fault."

"Then this can't be yours either Sammy."

Sam said nothing, so Dean figured he at least got the thought into his head.

"We should order some food, it's almost med time and bedtime for little brothers."

Dean ordered them pizza, and they spent the night watching horrible horror movies, and laughing at the mistakes. Sam had the ghost of a smile on his face, and the older Winchester hoped that Sam was going to make it through this.

Sam fell asleep against Dean's shoulder, and because he was sleeping nightmare free, Dean didn't have the heart to move him.

He ignored the tingle in his arm as he watched his brother sleep. Sam was still such a kid in so many ways, but Dean sometimes forgot that his brother was forced to grow up almost as fast as he did.

Sam had so much weight on his shoulders, but Dean hope that by opening up their line of communication, Sam might pull through all this pain.

He wasn't stupid, and he knew Sam had a long way to go, but he was going to be there every step of the way.

Because Sam was his responsibility.

And because he loved that kid with everything he had.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11:

When John finally returned, Sam was stretched out on the couch leaning against Dean's shoulder. He was breathing deeply, finally sleeping nightmare free for the first time in forever.

But even in sleep, the stress of Sam's life was evident on his young face. He remained tense, and line of distress had become a permanent facet across his forehead.

Dean looked up from the television when John stepped through the door. Dean stared at his Dad, and John knew that this latest disappearing act had put him on the oldest siblings shit list.

There were for a few awkward moments of silence before John's eyes made their way over to his youngest.

"We're going to head over to Bobby's for a little while." John said.

"Why?" Dean asked evenly, keeping his voice low so he wouldn't wake his sleeping brother.

"We need to find out what made him do this."

Dean sighed and eased his way out from under Sam, placing a blanket over top of him, and moving the hair out of his face in a gesture that reminded John so much of Mary.

He grabbed his coat off the chair, gesturing to his father to follow him out the door, and the two oldest Winchester's made their way outside.

"I know what happened Dad. I know why Sam did this." Dean said leaning against the back of the Impala.

John stood in front of his oldest son, a million questions soaring behind his eyes.

"Tell me. What got to him?"

Dean looked up at his father with confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"Was it a spirit, demon? Did you take care of it?"

Dean sat silently for a minute, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. Once the shock was over, it was replaced by an anger that he rarely felt towards his father.

"Have you lost your God Damn mind Dad?"

"Watch your tone Dean." John growled.

Dean walked into his father's space, staring him straight into the eye.

"This isn't something supernatural Dad. This is your eighteen year old son crying out for help the only way he knows how cause we were to stuck in our own fucking worlds to notice he was suffering."

John pushed Dean back against the car and grabbed him by the collar, holding him in place.

"I did not raise my son to be weak, something evil has to be involved in this, something has broken him."

Dean stilled and looked up at his Dad with a sigh.

"The only demons hurting Sam right now are his own, but he isn't broken Dad, he is hurt and scared and he was looking for a way out. Stanford would have been his way out, but being the jackasses that we are we told him that his happiness meant nothing, that he had to stay with his family. We are the monsters here Dad, just us humans who were supposed to be the people who protected him. We are the ones hurting him Dad, more then any monster any ever could."

John swallowed hard and let go of Dean, running his hands over his week old beard. He knew Dean was right, he just couldn't believe he had messed up so bad that Sam would rather be dead then with them.

"Get him packed up Dean. We are going to Bobby's."

Dean bristled, and he whipped back around to his Dad.

Did you hear anything I just-"

"I heard you Dean!" John said cutting off his son's words. "I get what you are saying… but no matter what this is, we need somewhere to lay low and sort all this out."

Dean sighed and nodded, letting the fight fade out.

"He needs help Dad."

John looked up and Dean saw a devoted father behind the eyes of the tired hunter.

"I just want him to be okay." John whispered. He didn't know what else to say, but that was the complete honest truth.

"I know that Dad, but Sammy doesn't. You know him, he needs to talk things out to make himself feel better, and we don't let him do that because we don't like to talk about shit. So he locked it all down, let it rot away inside of him and this is the result."

"I know Dean. Right now, I want to go to Bobby's, maybe get an outsiders perspective, and we will deal with this as a family."

"You mean until the next hunt comes up." Dean said bitterly.

"No Dean. No more hunts until we fix this. I promise." John was always a man of broken promises, so Dean held no hope that he would stick around, but it was a nice thought.

Dean looked back towards the motel room door, where his brother was sleeping just inside. All he wanted was his little brother back, but he was beginning to realize that even if he found a way to fix Sam, Sam may not want to stay with them, and it left a hollow feeling in the pit of Dean's stomach.

"You know what we might have to do right? There may be only one way to fix Sam." Dean said carefully.

John sighed and laid a hand on his sons shoulder, squeezing gently. John was thinking the same thing, and for the first time the thought of Sam leaving didn't fill him with anger, it filled him with an indescribable sadness at the thought of losing his son forever.

"I know Dean… We might have to let him go."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12:

Bobby wasn't sure what to expect, but he knew it wasn't going to be good. He had known about Sam's plans to go to Stanford for almost a year, and he had only recently found out that the youngest Winchester had suddenly dropped out of high school. The kid always had higher aspirations then that, and he should have known that everything was about to go to hell when he got that information through the hunter's grapevine.

There were three things Bobby knew for sure in life: One, Monsters were real, two, family could and would break your heart, and three, nothing in the world could make John sound so angry, and Dean sound so broken then Sam Winchester.

He was sitting on the front porch, a shotgun propped up against his knee, sipping on a glass of whiskey when a familiar rumble made its way onto his property. The sleek black car pulled up the driveway, John's truck right behind it as he made his way across the yard.

Bobby reached John first, and slung an arm around him in a manly one-armed hug.

"You look like crap Johnny." Bobby said as he let go.

John huffed out a miserable sounding laugh and ran his hand over his beard. He wanted to make a joke about it, make Bobby feel better when he was obviously concerned about what had brought the Winchester's here in such a hurry, but the truth was he was exhausted.

"Dean doesn't look much better, we've been sleeping in shifts, and not sleeping well when we are."

Bobby's raised an eyebrow at John before shifting his eyes to the eldest brother who was stretching his back as he got out of the car. Dean looked just as exhausted as his father, but he sent a soft smile Bobby's way that couldn't hide the sadness behind his eyes. The Winchester's were slick, but they couldn't hide their emotions from Bobby, the man had known then for too long.

"Are you two gonna tell me what's going on?"

Dean swallowed and licked his lips, before nodding his head.

"Just let me get Sam inside first, he's exhausted. I'm gonna put him to bed and then we can talk."

Bobby watched as Dean pulled Sam out of the car, the boy was hunched in on himself, and drowning in an oversized sweater. He seemed to steady himself on Dean's shoulder, before the older brother place his hand on the taller boys neck, and slowly guided him towards the house.

Bobby was instantly concerned, and began to follow the boys into the house. As they disappeared up the stairs, John and him made their was into the kitchen, where Bobby grabbed three glasses and placed them on the table, filling each them with a generous portion of whiskey. He had a feeling they were going to need it.

Twenty minutes later, Dean crashed into a kitchen chair and took a slug of whiskey. Bobby waited until the Winchester's looked up before asking his first question.

"So, why does the boy look like the walking dead?" Bobby asked.

"He's… medicated." John said carefully.

"Pain meds?" Had Sam been hurt on a hunt? How bad?

"Some. Prozac mostly." Dean answered slowly.

"Prozac?"

"They tend to prescribe shit like that when you slit your wrists in a motel bathroom." Dean spit out.

"Sam tried to kill himself? Why?"

"Because he wanted out, and we screwed him out of his one way he could get out alive."

"So you think he did it, cause you didn't let him go to Stanford? I thought he made that decision himself."

Dean sighed and shrank further into the chair, pouring some more whiskey into his glass.

"I may not have known about Stanford but I sure made him know what I thought about him ever taking off. He told me he wasn't cut out for this life and I just blew him off. And now he is so damn sad…"

"This wasn't your fault Ace." John said, giving his sons shoulder a comforting squeeze. "He may have been sad, but I completely wrecked him with what I said when I found out about Stanford… I shouldn't have said he wasn't a good son… he has given up so much for us, and I didn't even realize it."

Bobby knew that the two older Winchester's had always been hard on Sam, and that Sam had always tried so hard to find his place in their world. He had been watching the boy all his life trying to fit into a puzzle where he never quite belonged. Stanford had been his way out, and he had lost that. Bobby could understand why Sam felt that suicide was his only way out, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to kick the kids ass when he was better.

"So what do you guys need from me?" Bobby asked.

"A home base." Dean answered. "Dad still needs to hunt, but Sam isn't going to get better moving around constantly. I need to get him into some kind of routine, wean him off the meds, and then I want to get him to finish school… I know it's a lot to ask but-"

"Dean, you're rambling." Bobby said cutting the young man off. "You guys can stay here for as long as you need." He cut his eyes to John. "And you come back as often as you can."

"Thank you Bobby."

"Don't thank me John. I let Sam feed all his Stanford crap through me, because I thought it was his way out. We don't know any different, but I though that Sam could be our legacy, be the only one of us who didn't get his guts ripped out before he had a chance to get old. It shouldn't have taken him bleeding out in a bathroom for you to realize this doesn't need to be his life."

Anger was sitting behind John's eyes, but instead of letting it take over, and sighed a deep breath.

"I know Bobby… I just want to get my boy back."

"Well okay then. Lets get him better."

Dean coughed, holding back the tears that were threatening to fall, before standing up from the table.

"I'm gonna go upstairs and check on him, I still don't like leaving him alone for too long." John nodded, and Dean went up the stairs towards the room he had always shared with his brother. Bobby took the chance to look up at John.

"Do you really think he will try it again?" Bobby asked.

"I really don't know Bobby… I think he is only hanging on because of how bad he hurt Dean by doing it. I don't know what will happen when that isn't enough to hold him here."

"Was it worth it? Keeping him in the hunting life?"

"No." John answered quickly. "I would rather him leave hating me and never come back, then him die believing I hated him."

"I'll do what I can to help John."

"I know Bobby… you're family… I know how much you care about those boys… hell I think you've been a better father to them then I ever had."

"Like hell John. You love them, and you have always tried your best."

"That doesn't mean it's enough."

"True, but you have a second chance John, don't waste it."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13:

6 weeks later:

Dean rubbed his tired eyes as he walked into Bobby's kitchen to grab himself a coffee and to get Sam's meds ready. Sam seemed to be doing better lately, but he was still in a bit of a haze from the medication and seemed to be indifferent about their Dad taking off.

Bobby had been great, and Dean had seen a side of him that he had never really known. Bobby would have been a great Dad, and when he first saw Sam the morning after their arrival, he simply brought the kid into a tight hug and didn't feel the need to talk it out with Sam, Sam would go to him when he was ready.

Sam came down the stairs just as Dean was putting breakfast on the table and flopped down in the chair.

"Morning Dean." Sam whispered softly.

Dean put his hand through Sam's sleep tousled hair, laughing at the watered down bitch face Sam threw his way.

"Here, take your pills and eat Sam breakfast." Dean turned away, knowing Sam didn't like to be watched when he took his meds.

"Hey Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean turned back towards Sam but he kept his eyes on the glass of orange juice in front of him. Dean sighed and slid into the chair beside his brother, nudging him gently with his elbow.

"What's up kiddo?"

Sam swallowed and pushed at the two pills in front of him.

"I don't want to take these anymore."

Dean had been waiting for this to happen, he had done plenty of research, hoping he would be prepared for the conversation. He wasn't.

"Okay…" Dean said slowly. "You know what will happen when you go off of them?"

"Well I figured if we dropped down to one pill a day for now, it'll help with the withdrawal symptoms, I haven't been on them long so it shouldn't be to bad…"

"Sammy… that isn't what I'm talking about. We can wean you off; I have no doubt about that. I am talking about afterwards. Do you know it is gonna be like off of them?"

"Not exactly, but I can't live like this Dean." Sam said. "I want to be awake again… I want to…feel again. I am sick of being numb."

"Before, you didn't want to live at all Sammy…"

Sam sighed and pulled at his right sleeve.

"I'm not saying I'm not still messed up… I have this switch in my brain and it got hit really fucking hard Dean… and I think that I know how to keep myself from getting to that point this time, I mean It isn't like it happened over night."

Sam raised his eyes and found Dean watching him closely so he continued.

"But I can't figure out how to keep myself from getting to that point if I can't feel anything. So I am asking Dean, please, let me do this.

Dean thought for a minute, watching Sam closely. It was a speech coming from his little brother, and behind the fuzz of medication and the weight of what had happened Dean saw just a little bit of who Sam was shine through. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough to hope, and maybe enough to have a little faith.

Okay, but I have some conditions." Dean said.

Sam looked up and nodded his head.

"What are they?"

"One, if this starts making you too sick you tell me so we can get help from a doctor, and two, if you start feeling bad again, you need to come to me okay? We just took the bandages off, I don't want to be putting anymore on."

Sam ran his hands over the tender scars on his wrists; his fingers were just starting to get warmth back into to them that had been flushed out in the weeks following the hospital.

"Yeah, Dean we got a deal."

Dean nodded his head, and took one pill off the table and pushed the last remaining white pill towards his brother.

"Get some food into you little brother."

"Thanks Dean."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14:

4 weeks later:

Dean was sitting on the couch gripping his beer bottle so tight he thought it might break in his hand. He didn't want to be annoyed but Sam was driving him up the wall.

"Sam I am so serious right now, sit down before I lay you down."

Sam stopped the pacing that had become a constant over the last few weeks. As he began to wean off the medication, he had began to feel things again, and between that and the slight withdrawal symptoms that were still left, he found himself often unable to sit still for long periods of time.

"Sorry Dean… I'm just going insane here."

"Go help Bobby with his research, he offered twice already."

Sam shook his head and ran his hands through his long hair.

"Can't concentrate on it, still a little hyperactive."

"Yeah I can tell, you have been tossing and turning for the last three nights."

Sam sighed and plopped down on the couch beside Dean.

"Sorry about that… guess I just didn't realize how long it would take to get the meds out of my system…" Sam said glumly.

Dean knocked him gently on the arm.

"C'mon don't get like that, you'll get through it, you are too tough too give up now."

"I gave up on living pretty quickly…" Sam mumbled.

Dean sighed and muted the television, looking over at his little brother. Sam looked stronger then he had in a long time, but that by no means meant he looked healthy. Dean couldn't believe they didn't notice how sickly Sam had gotten in the past year.

"I don't think you gave up quickly, I think you fought as long and as hard as you could, while me and Dad had our heads so far up our asses we didn't notice what was happening to you."

"It wasn't your fault."

"It wasn't yours either."

Sam kind of chuckled and looked at Dean with a smirk.

"It feels like we have been saying that back and forth to each other a lot over the past few months."

Dean smiled back and took a sip of his beer.

"Yeah well… maybe someday we will both stop being so hard headed and actually listen to each other."

"Doubt it, it's a Winchester trait."

And just like that Sam looked sad again, and Dean didn't know what to do, he kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. It hadn't yet, but Dean didn't know what to do when Sam stopped balancing on the edge like he was.

Dean looked up at the clock and noticed it was after midnight, and shut off the television.

"C'mon kiddo, bedtime." Dean said, pulling his brother to his feet.

Sam let out a yawn as he caught his balance and began to make his way up the stairs in front of Dean.

"What if I can't sleep?"

"Your eyes are blacker then the Impala, you need to sleep. Count sheep, think of Pamela Anderson, do complex math equations in your head, whatever works for you Sammy Boy."

"Fuck you Dean…" Sam muttered as he climbed under the sheets.

"Right back at you kiddo."

Dean left quietly and headed downstairs to clean up the dishes from dinner when he heard Bobby come in from the salvage yard.

"Get your van fixed?" Dean asked.

Bobby kicked off his boots, and sat down at the kitchen table.

"Yep, stripped it and gonna use it parts to fix up a different one, damn engine wasn't worth repairing."

Dean rolled his eyes and went back to the dishes.

"Waste of time old man, I could have fixed it for you."

Dean winced as he felt a slap on the back of his head.

"I'm sorry, who taught your scrawny ass how to fix cars when you were here all those summers as a kid? You are still an amateur and don't forget it."

Dean threw his hands up innocently and smiled.

"I'm just saying you might be losing your talents in your old age."

Bobby rolled his eyes, and looked up the stairs.

"How Sam today?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders, and sat down across from Bobby throwing the dishtowel over his shoulder.

"He is still a little agitated, trying to get the last of the drugs out of his system,

but he seems to be on his way back." Dean said glumly.

"You don't seem that excited about him going back normal. Something going

on that I don't know about?"

"Yeah well… I don't know exactly what we are getting into here, he promised

he would come to me if it started getting bad again but I am just scared he won't."

"That's a lot to have on your shoulders Ace… Have you heard from your Dad

yet?"

No, gonna call him tomorrow morning, make sure he isn't dead in a ditch

somewhere…"

Dean went to stand and return to the dishes, but Bobby grabbed the towel

from him and gave him a warm smile.

"You go to bed kid, you've done enough for today."

Dean knew better then to argue with Bobby, so he made his way up the stairs

quietly pushing the door open and tip toeing inside.

For once, Sam was asleep on his side snoring quietly, so Dean left him be

happy to sink into his own bed, falling into a dreamless sleep.

He should have known something was going on, this was Sam after all… but he didn't think anything about it until he woke up.

The next morning, Dean finally went to wake his brother up at 1:00, deciding he had slept enough, but Sam wouldn't get out of bed. Refusing to speak or look his big brother in the eye. Dean sunk down outside the door, and dialed his Dad's number, frowning when he got the machine. With a shaky voice he left a message.

"Dad… you need to come back… please… It's Sam… I think it's starting to

happen again…"


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15:

3 Days later:

Bobby had finally convinced a worried and exhausted Dean to take a nap on the couch, so that left him with one other Winchester to try and deal with. John had yet to show up or return his older sons calls so Bobby was trying to fill the void, but that empty spot could be felt every time he looked Dean in the eye, or watched as he tried to coax a depressed Sam out of his half asleep state.

Bobby walked into the spare room, and pulled the covers off of the lanky boy on the bed. Sam was awake, his eyes staring into the nothingness of the white wall, permanent tears of the last few days brimmed his bloodshot eyes every time he blinked. To Bobby, the rough and tough hunter, the scene was absolutely heartbreaking.

"You gonna get up today son?" Bobby asked softly.

Sam answered with a sniff, and then the slow movement of pulling his knees further into his chest. Bobby sighed and removed his baseball cap, placing it on the dresser. Sam wasn't asleep, it wasn't like he couldn't hear him, he was just flat out ignoring him. And he had had enough of it.

"Fine Sam, I'll be the bad guy."

Bobby hauled Sam off the bed with one arm under his knees, one at his shoulders. Had the kid been at a healthy weight it would have been impossible, but the kid still lacked the meat on his bones that he had lost over the past year.

Bobby made his way out of the bedroom, and maneuvered Sam into the bathroom, promptly dropping him fully clothed into the bath water he had drawn earlier.

Sam came to with a start as the air was forced from his lungs causing him to inhale a large choppy breath.

"Fuck…" Sam groaned.

"So he does speak…" Bobby said.

Sam curled his knees into himself and wiped his eyes.  
"What do you want from me Bobby?"

"I want you to stop sleeping for 4 days at a time."

Sam frowned.

"I'm just so tired… it takes so much energy."

Bobby sighed, and sat down on the toilet seat. He knew the kid was going through something rough, and he didn't want to sound unsympathetic, but tough love was the only way he knew how to get through to him.

"What takes too much energy? Being around Dean and I? Cause I got to tell you kiddo, we haven't asked you for much in the last little while."

"Living takes too much energy Bobby... I just don't know how to do this anymore."

"You wanted off of the happy pills kid, you wanted to feel again. This is part of it; you need to learn how to manage it. You know who else is tired of living right now?"

"Who?" Sam whispered.

"Your brother." Bobby replied.

Sam looked up quickly, and Bobby saw a flash of fear and love go through his eyes. Its was the most life he had seen out of the kid in weeks.

"He needs you here with us kid."

Sam shook his head.

"He has Dad."

"Look around Sam, you really think you would have been laid up in your bed for three days if your Dad was here?"

Sam thought for a minute and looked up at Bobby with a newfound clarity.

"I didn't know it had been three days." Sam whispered.

"Yeah well, I'm calling that rested. Fresh clothes are on the sink, get yourself cleaned up, and brush the smell of dead rat off of your teeth. Then get your ass down the stairs for some food. There is a lump of a Winchester passed out on my couch who is worried sick about you."

Bobby stood and made his way to the bathroom door.

"Hey Bobby?" Sam said.

"Yeah kid?"

"Thanks."

God those boys hurt his heart at times, not that he would tell them that. Bobby rolled his eyes, and smiled.

"Toast or oatmeal?"

Sam smiled.

"Oatmeal."

Bobby closed the door behind him, leaving Sam alone in the bathroom. The smile fell from Sam's face and he let out a deep sigh. He took off his sopping wet clothes and cleaned up for the first time in days.

As he stood by the bathroom mirror brushing his teeth, he looked at his reflection. He was a shadow of who he used to be, and he didn't want to be like this. He wasn't stupid, he knew this was more then sadness, but for the first time he thought maybe there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

He had to find strength within himself to get up and continue each day, but maybe he had forgotten the strength he had always. He could draw that strength from the one person that had always been his rock.

Maybe Dean could be his strength.

Sam made his way down the stairs and into the living room. His brother was asleep on the couch, but Sam could tell he wasn't sleeping peacefully. He was hunched in on himself and a deep frown had settled between his eyebrows, and Sam suddenly felt sick. He had done this to his brother, and no matter how horrible he was feeling he had no excuse.

"Dean?" Sam said, putting his hand on his brother's shoulder.

Dean blinked his eyes open, wondering who was waking him up, until his eyes landed on his little brother who was crouching in front of him. Dean sat up quickly, eye to eye with Sam for the first time in days.

"Sammy? Are you okay?" Dean asked, putting his hand against Sam's warm cheek. Sam leaned into the touch, neither brother caring how girly it seemed.

"No… but I will be Dean, that was just the first time since before they put me on the meds that the depression really hit me… and man it hits hard when you forget what it feels like."

"Do you think you need to go back on them?" Dean asked.

"No… I just need you to be here when it gets bad Dean…"

"I'll always be here."

"I'm sorry you had to see that Dean. I'm sorry it got so bad."

"Sammy… you don't have to apologize it isn't your fault… I just wish I knew how to help you with all this shit."

Sam smiled and sat down on the couch beside his brother.

"You can't fight this for me Dean, and I don't expect you to."

"Yeah well, I've never been good at sitting on the bench."

"Nobody else I'd rather have on my team."

"Boys! Get your butts in here and grab some grub!" Bobby yelled from the kitchen.

"You gonna eat something?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged and turned a little green.

"I know I need to, so I am gonna try."

"Don't worry princess, I'll hold your hair if you barf it all up."

Dean messed up Sam's hair with his hand, laughing when his brother shot him a face.

"I know you will be Dean."

Dean smiled, and helped his brother off the couch, hoping his brother was on his way back again.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16:

Bobby, Sam, and Dean were quiet as they ate. Sam was still trying to regain his balance in life, while Dean and Bobby were just happy to have the youngest Winchester back with them in the waking world.

Sam looked up suddenly, focusing on the door with a perplexed look on his face. Dean was about to ask his brother what was wrong, when he heard a familiar rumble pull up in front of the house coming to a stop in the driveway.

Dean watched as Sam sunk in on himself, folding in his shoulders and holding his arms around his chest. Dean on the other hand stood up and walked towards his brother, standing in front of him and blocking him from view.

John wasn't sure what he was walking into, but he sure wasn't expecting to walk in and have Bobby and Dean throwing daggers at him. He saw Sam in the chair behind Dean, but each time he tried to get a look at his youngest, Dean would block his view.

"Stand down Dean, you don't need to protect him from me." John said.

Dean smiled angrily, but did not move from his spot.

"I called you three days ago Dad because Sam needed help and you chose to wait til now to come back. A father is supposed to come running when his children need him, when they are hurt and scared. You decided to stay away because it was easier for you. I believe you are exactly what I am supposed to protect him from, sir."

John would never say out loud how much that hurt, but he felt his heart break when Dean said that to him. He knew he wasn't the perfect father, hell he knew he couldn't be classified as a good one most of the time, but he thought his boys at least knew that he loved them, that they were safe with him.

"I got here as soon as I could Dean… I was-"

"You were what Dad? Busy? On a hunt? No I got it, how about on a bender?" Dean snapped.

Bobby stood from his seat, and put his hand on Dean's chest, pushing him back a little from where he had slowly been creeping towards his father.

"Alright tough guy, that's enough," Bobby said. "You've proved your point, now take your brother into the living room, he is starting to look a little green."

Dean blinked a few times before turning towards Sam who was still curled in on himself in the hard kitchen chair. The anger drained out of Dean as he crouched in front of his brother.

"You okay Sammy?" Dean asked gently.

Sam blinked and looked up at Dean through his hair.

"Why is everyone mad again? I didn't even do anything this time…" Sam whispered.

"Shit…" Dean cursed under his breath. "Sorry kiddo, we aren't mad at you, we just don't know how to put a lid on our temper sometimes. Wanna go lay down?"

Sam nodded, and slowly made his way towards the living room, waiting at the doorway for Dean to follow.

"I'll talk to you about this later." Dean whispered to his father.

John simply nodded and let his boys walk away, forcing himself to stay still when all he wanted to do was follow them.

He looked over as he heard glass clinking together, watching as Bobby poured them some whiskey.

"Grab a seat John." Bobby said.

"You aren't gonna chase me outta your house with a shotgun?" John asked.

Bobby chuckled and looked up at his long time friend.

"Not this time. You may be a dumb ass, but you got two kids who need you."

"They don't even want me here." John grumbled.

"Quit feeling sorry for yourself, self pity don't look good on you. What kids what their parents around all the time? Dean sure as hell wanted you here three days ago when he couldn't get Sam out of bed. Damn boy nearly ran himself into the ground trying to help his brother out."

John sighed deeply and took a sip of the strong drink.

"Did it get that bad?" John asked.

Bobby snorted and leaned back against the rickety wooden chair.

"He was asleep a lot. And then when he was awake he was silently crying, and we couldn't get him to talk to either of us. It scared the crap out of me." Bobby explained.

John understood the gravity of that statement. He trusted Bobby with his boys, and that was because the man could take care of any supernatural creature without so much as a flinch. For Bobby to admit he was afraid, the situation had obviously gotten out of hand.

The two men sat in silence for a while, until they heard footsteps coming back to the kitchen. Dean sat down across from his Dad, and watched him and John knew Dean was waiting for some kind of explanation.

"I really did get here as fast as I could Dean." John said.

"Okay, where were you?" Dean asked calmly.

"I was in California…" John admitted.

Dean tilted his head in contemplation trying to piece together what his father was telling him.

"What could possibly take you all the way to California when your youngest son is having a depressive episode?"

"I was in Palo Alto, I went to Stanford and talked to the administration. I explained what had happened, about Sam's depression and the breakdown. They have agreed to let him start next year with a full scholarship as long as he completes his high school diploma with similar grades to those he had when he was accepted the first time."

"So after everything that has happened, you are just going to act the part of the caring father and send you son off to college? See him during the holidays? Let him walk away from hunting?"

"Dean look… if he wants to go to college I have accepted that. I want him to be happy… but you can't have one foot in the hunting world. If he is gonna go to college then…"

John drifted off, but he could tell Dean was getting what he was saying when his hands clenched in front of him.

"You are just going to walk away?"

John looked up and met his son's eyes.

"No Dean. We are going to walk away."

"Screw you Dad! You haven't been here! If it wasn't for me and Bobby, I am not even sure he would be alive right now! I am not just going to leave him alone." Dean yelled.

John remained as calm as possible waiting for Dean to take a deep breath before he continued.

"Dean listen to me, you told me once that if it was what Sam needed, we were going to have to let him go… so I am going to ask you now, do you want to keep him here for his own good, or because you just want your brother with you?"

Dean sighed and stood from the table.

"I am going to take Sammy to bed." Dean whispered.

"Dean-"

"I hear you Dad alright? Just let me think for the night… I need to talk to Sam."

Bobby and John watched Dean walk away to grab Sam off the couch.

"Do you really think sending him to California is a good idea John? He is gonna be alone with out anyone to watch him." Bobby inquired.

"I don't want him in California Bobby, that hasn't changed." John said. "I can't protect him there…. But I realized the other day that I can't keep him safe here either."

Bobby filled John's glass one more time, and looked at his friend.

"Spoken like a true father John."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17:

"Dean?" Sam whispered from his spot curled up on the bed.

Dean turned around and looked down at his little brother.

"You okay kid?" Dean asked softly.

Sam sniffled a little but didn't say anything else. Dean sighed and sat down on the edge of Sam's bed.

"Hey, you wanna tell me what's going on in that freaky head of yours?" Dean asked.

Sam let out a deep sigh, and looked up at his brother with the one eye that wasn't covered by the blankets.

"I'm sorry that I did this to you guys…" Sam said quietly. "You and Dad always got along and now you can't stop fighting."

Dean groaned and lay down beside his brother on the queen-sized bed, staring straight up at the ceiling. He could feel Sam's eyes drilling into the side of his face.

"I think what is happening between me and Dad is a long time coming Sammy… and it has very little to do with you…"

"You guys only ever fight when it is about me."

Dean licked his lips trying to come up with a way for his brother to understand, eventually giving up and just looking his brother in the eye.

"Alright listen, chick flick moments don't count for the next five minutes okay?"

Sam smiled softly and nodded his head.

"Okay so, you and Dad? You guys are always butting heads about everything, and I know that it is because you have different ideas of what is important. He thinks the most important thing in the world is finding what killed mom, and you want to live a normal life, have friends, go to college… and I don't want to fight about it because I can see why both those things are important to you."

Sam scrunched up his face in confusion.

"So we're both hard headed dicks… what does that have to do with you and Dad?"

"Well… I guess what I'm trying to say is… I only fight with Dad about you because you are the only thing I have worth fighting for."

Sam's eyes went round at his brother's confession, as the realization of what he had almost done to Dean when he attempted to take his own life. He was beginning to realize that his death would mean the end of Dean's life as well.

"We are freakishly co-dependent." Sam said.

Dean scowled at his brother, and then he noticed a familiar set of dimples making their way over his little brother's face, and before he knew it, they were both laughing. A comfortable silence fell over them, and Dean knew this was the time to talk to Sam.

"If you still want to go to Stanford, I want you to go." Dean said.

Sam looked at Dean with confusion and a little bit of fear.

"I thought you wanted me here." Sam said, but Dean heard the under lying meaning. Sam was asking why Dean wanted him to leave.

"I want you to be happy Sammy, that is all I want. I don't want you to feel like cutting your wrists is your only escape from this life."

Sam subconsciously rubbed the scars on his wrists, a frown appearing on his face as he went over what Dean was saying.

"I want to finish high school, that's my first step. I need to see if I can handle that, then we can see from there." Sam answered.

"Okay Sammy, whatever you need. I got your back."

"I know you do Dean."

THE END.

This is the end of this story. I do however plan on doing a sequel taking place after Jessica dies, investigating how the tragedy effects Sam's depression. If you are interested in this sequel let me know.

Thank you to all of read and enjoyed this story.


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